


Feral Descent

by TrunkyMunk



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bullying, Drug Use, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues, fantasies of control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrunkyMunk/pseuds/TrunkyMunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakashi is slowly unraveling. Lost in his past and plagued by guilt, shattered by the recent loss of Konoha's Fourth Hokage and the man he'd only just begun to make sense of his feelings towards who he'd known since childhood, and drenched by the mind-numbing horror of a life in ANBU; he looks for any way to escape. </p>
<p>When his deviations into Konoha's intricate nightlife take a darker turn, it sets him on a wild journey of coercion and deceit that he wasn't prepared for. With Root extending it's dark hand through the underbelly of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, Civil War is on the horizon, and everyone in the black ops walks the narrow precipice of loyalty between the two diverging factions.</p>
<p>Amidst the chaos, blood, and subterfuge the Copy-Ninja encounters a brown-eyed chunin with a resolute stare and a scar to match his. </p>
<p>"Iruka jerks to a halt. The rattle of the alley door rings in his ears. And all it takes is one glimpse; and he is caught by the feathered splay of silver hair crushed to the brickwork, the breathless flash of an incisor in a grimace that is the closest he's ever seen to Kakashi smile, and the helpless cant of pale, dewy hips-trapped by the kneading grip of the man behind him. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

...  
Feral Touch  
...

"Let's get these out of the way, shall we?"

Kakashi breathes in and his chest his tight, but he nods shyly and lets the older man back him up against the wall. There's a shallow, foul-smelling puddle overflowing from the gutter by their feet and the discarded wooden crates piled about them are covered with old chicken feathers and dander. It's enough to make him wrinkle his nose in anticipation of a sneeze-but it never comes.

Maybe because his body is being jostled, shoved into the brick by the man's fumbling, gloved hands. Maybe he's too nervous to sneeze.

The man is a little taller than Minato's height. His shoulders and gut are broader, stockier than the recently departed Hokage. But his eyes are blue and there was something about the cut of the man's armor-plated gloves that reminded him of slender fingers carding silently through his hair and gentle brushes to his masked cheek when the other had thought him to be sleeping. 

His jounin vest is unzipped roughly. Yanked from his shoulders and shunted down to tangle about his wrists behind his back. It's what he'd expected, but the harshness of the action-the rapid callousness of it has him backpedaling, gasping quietly. There's a subtle quirk of a grin breaking over the man's face, and Kakashi knows that his reaction did not go unnoticed. That it's just made the man hungrier.

He no longer looks anything like Minato.

"Sh, Sh. Shh."

The muffled pulsing of a heavy base-line reaches them thinly through the closed door leading back into the bar. Kakashi's sandals squeak against each other, and the soft, unsteady sound he made in the back of his throat is swallowed by one of the man's gloved hands shoving down his mask and dipping two of his fingers between his lips. The man's hot breath, sweltering and ripe with alcohol, blusters over his ear and the bare skin of his neck, making him shiver. 

The course fabric of the man's fingerpads has the slick dampness of his mouth tingling as they roll over his tongue; brush against the inside of his cheek.

Kakashi closes his eyes. Hard.

He focuses on the pawing of the man's other hand along his torso and hips. Frowns distantly with the concentration of imagining it into the intuitive, supportive caresses of the late Yondaime. Slow flickers of heat quiver and then bloom, spreading like electricity beneath his skin. There's a tense knot of sensation balling, gathering sloppily somewhere deep between his legs. And it's enough to make him toss his head, white-silver strands tumbling over his shut-tight eyes and pale lips ripping free of the prying fingers with a wet gasp. Kakashi moans shakily. His hips tilt forwards helplessly, and he rocks into the pressing weight of those gloved hands, unthinking.

"You're so turned on right now."

The man's dark voice jolted him out of his fantasy with a feeling like being stung. Kakashi's eyelids fluttered, his vision spliced by the mussed scatter of his silver hair and the feathery crush of his thick eyelashes. The man's glove slid from his parted lips into a tight, possessive circle about his neck. Kakashi's heart skipped. He could feel it throbbing in his windpipe against the rough fibers on the man's palm.

Sensei...

It didn't make sense. Even now, months after the village-wide funeral ceremony with the hordes of orchestrated flowers, parades, and speeches-Minato's was the first name upon his lips when he needed someone. 

"You didn't even notice..." The man grunted into his ear heatedly, hands dripping over Kakashi's body like water, "But you're practically naked."

Kakashi looked down and stiffened. His silver brow dipped, and his mismatched eyes widened in a slow-budding sort of fear. 

His navy blue pants were pooled around his bony knees, his underwear tangled with them. His shirt, already rolled up to his chin, was swiftly tugged over his head in one slippery motion. Kakashi whimpered. Struggled to breathe around the sudden burst of dismantling fear and shame clogging his chest. This isn't what he wanted.

"So fucking," the older man grunted, and Kakashis cheek was scraped roughly against the brick wall, "Soft..."

He'd wanted the thoughtful glimmer of his sensei's azure stare and the gentle rhythm of the man's laughter ringing pleasantly in his ears. One more time. Kakashi cried out once, stifled and broken. He'd just... wanted...

The iron frame of the side-alley door swung open before him with a loud, dry clang. Kakashi looked up from where he was, crushed against the opposite corner of the narrow passageway less than an arms-length away. And stared straight into a pair of startled, honey-brown eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

Iruka passed his can of coffee from one hand to another. Glanced askance at the boy sitting tensely on the bench beside him.

Kakashi was staring steadfastly at the scuffed dirt path between his sandaled toes. He tracked the lazy passage of a beetle. The manic flutter of a sparrow startled into motion, darting across the low yellow, pink, and purple sky above them. Fiddled with the tab of the can cupped between his own hands.

Basically everywhere that did not directly involve looking at Iruka.

"Just say it."

The Copy-Ninja's voice surprised him. The lowness of it. Or maybe it was the way he managed to sound so simultaneously articulate and removed. Like he was speaking solely for Iruka's benefit, giving him the room to pass some sort of concrete judgement as if... Iruka frowned. Bit the inside of his cheek and gave himself a moment to weigh the situation.

Truthfully, he was at a little bit of a loss. 

He wasn't certain but, if his memory served, this might be the first conversation he'd ever attempted with the isolated warrior-prodigy child of the Last Great Ninja War. Sure, he knew who Kakashi was. Most everyone in the shinobi sector of Konoha had heard at least one tale of deadly conquest that involved the Copy-Ninja. Disgraced son of the White Fang. Nowadays, the stories were more infrequent. More secretive. Impossible.

Rumor had it he'd been drawn into ANBU. That he'd shed one mask for another. Become the perfect ghost. Traceless.

There was little known, and even less-Iruka was willing to bet-was understood about Hatake Kakashi. He was wading into unmarked territory here, venturing off the plodded path already traveled. At any moment he could trigger a mine-field, a retaliatory ambush. There was something palpably dangerous about Kakashi. The sort of unpredictability that burned like a flame, flickering through the dark eyes of a wild animal. One wrong move and he was prey. 

So, why was it that Kakashi was talking like he already knew what Iruka was going to say? As if he already knew what the dark-haired chunin thought of him. And he was merely giving Iruka the opportunity to define and label-to openly judge-the mystery that was the Copy-Ninja. 

He wondered if that was something the silver-haired boy got a lot. Other people telling him who he is.

"Say what?"

Iruka asked, taking a shallow sip of his drink and being careful not to look too hard at Kakashi. Partly because he had the strangest feeling that, if he looked too hard at the soft-spoken jonin, he might scare him away. And be left, wide-eyed, alone on the bench sipping his coffee like a fool.

But mostly he knows it has something to do with the fact that he can't unsee what just happened. That his stomach is attempting to tie itself in loopy knots the longer he sits here; Kakashi's slender, unmasked face and bare skin flashing superimposed across his vision like a strobe light.

He feels more than sees the jonin's tentative gaze flicker over him. Schools his face into a carefully blank, thoughtless look. Kakashi coughs quietly and turns away.

"That I'm disgusting." Kakashi's voice is so hushed it's almost as if he hadn't said anything at all. He looks down and picks at a loose thread on his knee.

Iruka watches the sun melting into the cradle of dusk over the staggered crown of Konoha's skyline. Says nothing.

"I'm a freak." There's a faint quaver in the words, and suddenly they all seem to be spilling out, helpless to be stopped. Kakashi ducks his head. Clenches his fists between his knees, shoulders raising in a gesture that's poignant in it's weakness. Vulnerability.

"I'm an idiot. A good-for-nothing piece of shit who doesn't know what he'd gotten himself into. A sl-"

Iruka makes a loud, intrusive sigh. Cuts Kakashi off. Shakes his head a little in vague dismay. Looks up at the sky with pursed lips for a brief moment with an expression that seemed to be asking God himself if the teenager beside him was actually serious. And then levels his warm, toffee-colored eyes on Kakashi.

"Don't say that." he kneads a burgeoning headache between his brows and frowns, "Look, I-" he interrupts himself, glancing at the Copy-Ninja again, "You didn't know what you were getting into?"

Kakashi looks at him for the first time. His hitae-ate has been carefully rearranged, just like the rest of his clothes-Iruka fights not to blush-and the Sharingan dutifully put away. There's a softness to the slope of his only visible eyelid that makes the curve of his thick, dark lashes look like the filmy wing of a butterfly casting long shadows on his masked cheek. And Iruka is surprised to see that up close Kakashi's eye isn't black but a layered mosaic of every shade of grey.

"I..." Kakashi stammers, "I didn't-I mean, I don't, it..."

The chunin stares. Feels himself becoming polarized, anchored in some profound, indescribable way to the silver-haired boy facing him through the thin fabric of a mask.

"Doesn't matter."

Iruka blinks a little, frowning at Kakashi, and tilts his head. He looks down at the half-drunk coffee can nestled between his palms.

"What do you mean," he says the words evenly, forcefully so, "'it doesn't matter'?"

And now he finds that he can't look at Kakashi. He can't dispell that tremulous echo of hurt he heard when he'd first pushed through the rickety, side-alley door of the bar. That kind of helplessness-that childish, abject fear of abandonment and loneliness-the sound of it coloring Kakashi's voice; it wasn't something he thought he could ever stop hearing.

The jounin shrugs dismissively beside him. Chases murky circles of half-spilled coffee around the lid of his can with his fingertip.

"I don't know..." he says, and then after a moment of deliberative silence, "You wouldn't..."

It takes a second for Iruka to realize that the Copy-Ninja physically can't finish his sentence. He looks up and is alarmed and a little horrified to read the uneasy fear and the rising crest of a thick blush in the minuscule corner of Kakashi's face that isn't covered by his mask or headband. 

"What?" Iruka blinks and then realization hits him fully. He rocks back on the bench a little as if unconsciously offended at the unspoken words, "No! No, I..." he coughs and, blushing heavily himself now, looks awkwardly away, "I would never say anything."

"Oh."

Kakashi nods once, and then again, making to rise from the bench.

"Okay, well. Um." he looks back and forth between Iruka's side and the ground between his feet stiffly, and the sight of it is astonishingly adorable, "I. I guess I'll go... then..."

The Copy-Ninja freezes, jolting to a stop in the middle of turning away. He turns his head back slowly, several overgrown strands of white-silver hair drifting over his solitary wide, grey eye. And stares at the tanned hand curled loosely around the circle of his pale wrist.

Iruka looks up at him firmly, brown eyes warm and so familiar it makes the jounin pause. Swallow audibly.

"You don't need to go anywhere."

...


	3. Chapter Three

_Kakashi snarled and backed into a table when Minato reached out to steady him. He clutched at the slippery, stinging throb of his belly with cold, papery fingers._

  _"Stop!" his dark grey eyes-both of them still as of yet unscarred and whole-slanted menacingly even as he wobbled on his feet, "... I'm okay." He grunted. Staggered, and fell to one knee._

  _"Kakashi."_

_The smooth, tanned skin of his sensei's face was beginning to pucker between his blonde brows. He uncrossed his arms, holding them loosely at his sides in a casual movement that the chunin instinctively knew was anything but. It was the posture of someone approaching a cornered, possibly rabid animal._

_Somehow, impossibly, it seemed to make the entire situation worse._

_"You're hurt." Minato was saying in that infuriatingly calm, gentle way of his, still taking those even, measured half-steps inchingly towards him, "That cut looks deep and you're losing blood fast..."_

_The eleven year old, who'd been shivering silently in pain the whole time, unwittingly let a small, wavery gasp slip out. He crumpled against the wall of the ramshackle lean-to behind him, crashing to the dusty floor and curling in on himself frailly. Minato was by his side, his warm, solid palm cupping the bony ridge of Kakashi's elbow, in an instant._

_"Woah." The man's cool tenor reached him blurrily as if from underwater; Kakashi made a small noise when he felt himself being lifted, "Easy..."_

_It was hard to remember why he was fighting when everything hurt so much. He trusted his sensei. Distantly, in the static-filled corners of his mind not obliterated by the brutal siren of unexpected agony, he was even aware that it'd been Minato who'd saved him. The hands that held him now, carefully gathering him from the floor and folding his cold, aching body against the solid warmth of steady, broad shoulders-they'd swooped in at the last possible moment and plucked him from certain death. Like they always did._

_So, why-Kakashi whined and attempted to twist his body away from the hardness of the newly-righted table without thinking when Minato settled him gingerly upon it like it was an operating station. The thrashing aggravated the open wound along his stomach and abdomen further. What was a slow, sanguine trickle devolved into more of a gradual seeping. Kakashi sobbed breathlessly._

_"Shit."_

_It wasn't often he heard his sensei curse. If he hadn't been in such overwhelming fear and pain he might have said something. Exactly what that might have been, he'd never know because-in a swift movement that had the air catching painfully in his throat and his stomach swooping nervously-Minato had bent over him and had started unbuckling things. Unfastening, jostling._

_The silver-haired boy felt the hem of his stained, soppy t-shirt roll out from under the waistband of his pants at the same time he noticed his weapons pouch, sword holster, and his sandals clatter to the wood beside his head._

_"Wait! Sen-sei." The words were nearly lost in a sudden glob of bloody spittle that rose and frothed between his lips. Minato's blue eyes were slow-moving and thorough. Focused. Hard beneath the flat, worried line of his blonde brows. He yanked Kakashi's mask down to his chin in one quick motion. Stopped him from choking._

_Kakashi's slightly glassy eyes widened. His narrow chest hitched, the pace of it's uneven rise and fall skipping ahead dramatically. His mask!_

_Cool air washed over his bare cheeks, nipping his nose, and reminding him unflaggingly that this was the first time since he'd put the small dividing patch of fabric on that his sensei had seen his face without it._

_Now, he remembered why he was fighting, twisting frantically beneath his sensei's gentle, probing fingers. He started gasping, his breath slipping into the dizzy realm of hyperventilation._

_"N-No," he moaned, "Wait. Wait-"_

_He didn't want to be on his back right now. The table felt hard and unalterably barren against the curve of the back of his skull; the slender line of his bare neck supported only by empty air. He distinctly felt each of the curves and dips of his rapidly growing body where he was forced to open up the angles of his frame against the flat expanse of the table with a heightened, tingling rush of awareness. His sensei's breath ghosted over the bare, throbbing skin of his gutted belly as the man bent over him. It tickled and, coupled with the unfamiliar feeling of his wet t-shirt squelching up to a tangled weight above his collarbones, made him wriggle his hips against the trapped sensation._

_Minato's light blue eyes flickered. Something in his jaw set and Kakashi read the heavy determination in his eyes. It was al_ _most as poignant as the unmistakable worry blooming sharp and hot in the jounin's azure depths. And it shouldn't have felt so dismantling and anchoring at the same time. To have another person look at him so... The last time someone had stared at him so intently-like he was more important than what anybody else thought or a reputation that needed to be upheld; more precious than any rare metal or gem; fragile as a dream uncharted-his dad had still been the White Fang of Konoha._

_Now, his dad was a palmful of ash. Enclosed in an unremarkable off-white urn on the mantelpiece of the dilapidated Hatake estate outside the borders of the village._

_And, Kakashi: alone._

_In the morning he opened his eyes to cold, twisted sheets and the empty walls and floor of his rundown apartment. He ate alone. Small, measured meals that he didn't take any pleasure or warmth from and were often left unfinished when he realized he felt more comfortable being hollow anyways. There was no one there to count his bruises, to shake their heads or make a small noise of mock-disappointment under their breath at his recklessness. No one to mend tears or patch holes. No one to argue with. He stared flatly into the cracked slab of a mirror bolted over the sink in his bathroom with wide, starved-looking eyes when he cut his own hair with a pair of blunted shears. The sallow face of a lonely child staring helplessly back at him uncomfortable to see._

_What was it that his sensei thought he saw when he was looking at him like that? It couldn't, couldn't have been_ Kakashi _._ _He wasn't... The eleven year old looked away from the emotion glowing fervently behind those blue eyes. Bit his bloody lip._

_"Oh, 'Kashi." Minato's sigh was so light it smarted._

_The man couldn't be seeing him clearly. No. Because Kakashi knew that he was none of the things he saw reflected-wavering and filmy, beautiful-in Minato's tidal eyes._

_He wasn't worth worrying about._

_Evidently, the Yellow Flash of Konoha felt differently._

_"Wait!" Kakashi croaked again, and his_ _blood-spattered hands collided with Minato's over the knotted drawstring of his blood-sodden pants._

_Maybe it was the way his voice crept up at the end of the word, making him seem younger than he was. Maybe it was the sight of Kakashi's pale fingers scrabbling weakly across Minato's bigger, unshaking hands or the smear of bloody fingerprints left behind. It could have been the jarring clash of a hot, dizzy blush meeting the icy trickle of embarrassed, frightened tears over the soft skin of his cheeks. The nervous half-kick of his heels raking against the harsh wood of the table._

_Whatever it was that Minato seemed to see, looking down at him with an unreadable, decidedly adult expression-it was enough to make him pause. Withdraw the tingling brush of his calloused fingers from Kakashi's damp, aching skin. If only for a moment._

_"What is it, Kakashi?" The Yellow Flash's cerulean gaze burned into him furiously. Impatient, "Why are you pushing me away?"_

_"I...I-"_

_But he'd taken too long to answer and Minato wasn't willing to hold off medical care for any longer. Not with his charge bleeding out like this._

_Kakashi's grey eyes widened. He grabbed at his sensei's wrists, head tossing back and forth frantically. Kicked his feet and tried to twist away from the man._

_He started screaming._

_"Hey!!" Minato caught his shaking fingers in one fist, jerking him roughly, and grabbed Kakashi by the back of the head. He forced the wild-eyed child to hold still, and look straight into his unshakable blue gaze, "Cut it out!"_

_The breath shook out of him, Kakashi shook his head feebly. For some stupid reason he couldn't stop crying. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. It-Everything was so much more out of his control than he'd expected it to be. His face felt hot and tight like it was pinched between two giant, invisible thumbs; his chest hitching, torn stomach muscles wracking without him meaning them too. Even his throat felt clogged, as if his tears had overflown his insides and were bubbling up the narrow tunnels of his eye sockets and nasal cavity._

_He wanted Minato to hold him. To push him away._

_He didn't know what he wanted. Everything just... hurt so..._

_What." Minato growled, still crushing Kakashi's smaller fingers in his grip, jerking him back to the present,"What is it?"_

_Kakashi let out a hurt, exhausted sob of nervousness. Blinked back hot, sticky tears and sniffled. He mumbled something quietly, burning grey eyes slipping avoidably to the side as he stopped trying to escape._

_"What?" They Yellow Flash frowned. Turned his head and leaned closer to Kakashi's quivering, bloody lips. The hold he had on Kakashi's hands was bruising. Simultaneously grounding and invasive. The eleven year old shook his head, damp silver spikes fluffing with the motion. He whispered the words again, blushing._

_"I don't want you t-to take my pants off."_

_Several expressions struggled to cross Minato's stunned face at once. Surprise bordering on dismay slipped into murky looks of shame, guilt, and a profound sort of realization that almost seemed to touch on absent curiosity. He stared down at Kakashi, still half-cradling the boy's neck and squeezing the smaller, shaking hands inside one sweaty palm. And then a refreshing gentleness cooled the fury in the man's tanned face._

_Minato laughed._

_Kakashi flinched._

_A slow brush of his sensei's thumb rubbed against the short, downy hairs along the back of his neck where his mask had been pulled down. Smoothing. Tracing._

_Petting_.

_"Is that it?" And then, still smiling faintly around the worry creased between his brows, "I thought it was gonna be something worse...You don't need to be afraid. I'm sure you don't have anything I haven't seen before. It's just skin, Kashi-kun."_

_"B-but-"_

_Minato's ethereal blue eyes blinked down at him with unmistakable fondness. And it was enough to break every notion that he'd ever had about himself. It-_

_Kakashi jerked his head to the side, overwhelmed and terrified at the feelings stoked deep inside him by that single look. His own eyes were wide, dark with hurt and a sort of uncomprehending sheen. It was too much. Was... Was this what it was to be an adult? To have someone look at you like, like-_

_"Shh." And Minato stroked a warm caress over Kakashi's scalp, ruffling his hair then, "You don't need to be afraid with me." he said, "I promise I would never hurt you... You terrifically dense, precocious, stubborn little slip of a boy..."_

_Kakashi stared up at Minato. Forgot how to breathe. Traced the slope of the man's cheekbones with watering, steel-bright eyes. Felt himself slowly unraveling._

_Trusting._

_"Shh."_

"Sh."

_"It's okay..."_

"It's okay, just-" There was a stifled grunt as Kakashi was folded over the cluttered desk in the deserted jounin lounge. The ANBU behind him still wore his mask. It was the brutish mug of a bear, painted in sleek purple and crimson lines.

Kakashi was down to his boxer briefs.

_"Okay..."_

"Hold. Still." Kakashi winced into the cold metal, the claw-like fingers of the man's gloves digging into his scalp where they held him down.

_"Just..."_

He wished the man would stop talking. It ruined the fantasy.

Made him feel smaller than his eleven year old self.

"Ah. Yeah, like that. Just-"

_"Just..."_

Kakashi drew in a stuttered gasp, his mismatched eyes opening for only the briefest of seconds as another barbed glove wormed its way down his belly. Pressed flush against the desk, scattered papers and pens crumpled beneath him, it was hardly a comfortable setting. How had he gotten here?

"Fuck." The ANBU's voice hummed through the thick porcelain of his mask, tickling the inside of Kakashi's ear in a way that made him breakout in a cold sweat, "Why are you not naked?"

_"Just look at me."_

 And then he was being man-handled. Yanked up and twirled around and slammed back down onto the now cleared surface of the desk. Kakashi lay flat on his back, gasping. His fingers rushed illogically to hold closed the puckered gash of a belly long-since healed, for a moment losing track of the silver-haired boy in his memory with the silver-haired teenager being crushed by the ANBU above him.

The Copy-Ninja sealed his eyes shut, scarred and unscarred alike. The progression of his recollection melted hazily through into the present, blurring the two moments together stickily. He let out a small, faintly audible note that was equal parts fear and base relief the same moment the eleven year old in his memory did.

_"Look..._

The ANBU sniggered behind his bear mask at the silver-haired boy's whimper. And the bear mistook it, relishing the delight of causing such a reaction through such a simple action. Who would've guessed Konoha's top cadet, their fastest rising star could be so affected by having their last article of clothing yanked roughly from his hips?

Kakashi stared hard into the back of his eyelids. Tried to recapture the grace of Minato's animated carousel of expression. The warmth of his blue eyes. He fought desperately to not be where he was-He wanted to submerge back into the rolling wash of memory. To be safe.

_"Look at me."_

But, lying there with the contents of the lounge desk strewn haphazardly beneath him-the narrow strip of his ankles, covered by the bunched fabric of his underwear; the only part of him left secret to the ravenous perusal of the Bear-masked soldier atop him-he couldn't help but feel...

alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

"Hey." Iruka's voice cut through his daydream like a senbon piercing a dust-cloud, "You okay? You looked like you were thinking really hard about something."

Kakashi looked up from the paper cup of vodka-infused fruit punch he clutched carefully in the loose ring of his fingers. He blinked at Iruka with his only uncovered eye for a moment, and was vaguely grateful for the protective cover of his mask and headband. 

Usually this was the point in a conversation where he'd say something just a little bit disarming and pointedly inattentive. Or pretend like he'd only just noticed the person standing next to him.

It was unsettling and more than a little curious that Iruka summoned up no such inclinations. 

He shrugged a little with one shoulder. Became pressingly aware of the weight of Iruka's brown eyes boring into his own and pointed randomly at a painting that was hung up on the wall beside them. 

"That's a bit of a weird theme for a decorative piece, isn't it?" he extrapolated, pondering, "I wonder why the artist has the subject sitting down. And the chair.. on top... Huh. Bit impressionistic for my tastes. But it has a rustic charm all the same."

Iruka stared at him, his smile tilting a little in polite confusion.

"What're you-" he whipped around and squinted down at the painting, "Oh."

"Yeah, that's very odd. You know, of all the times I've been over to Mizuki's somehow I am just now noticing that." Iruka glanced up at Kakashi in stunned bewilderment, "The chair's on top of the guy!"

Kakashi crossed his arms. Nodded in what he hoped passed for a relatively impressed reaction. 

Distracting Iruka was too easy. 

Coming along to 'hang out' with the chunin was quickly starting to look a lot more like stuffing themselves into a quaint, but nonetheless tiny apartment with half the village's nightlife population. Kakashi shuffled awkwardly into a nearby corner as a loudly chatting couple squeezed by them in the narrow hallway. 

Iruka's lips twisted into a curious expression. He laughed. It was halfway between a snigger and simper. 

"What?"

Kakashi raised his brows a little uncertainly. He wasn't used to people laughing at him, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. For some reason, hearing the brown-eyed chunin's laugh sent several little flutters of nervousness zinging through his belly. This wasn't something he felt able to analyze, at least not right now, not with all these people around. 

Not that it mattered much. Kakashi was mostly sure he looked stupid.

Mostly.

"Nothing, nothing." Iruka smirked around the edge of his drink, "It's just that you're looking around like you've never seen a party before. And..." he trailed off, meandering over to another painting. Kakashi felt his face grow hot under his mask.

"Oh."

It happened sometimes. Rarely was he incorrect, but apparently he could be a little more sure than mostly-He must look stunningly idiotic. 

"And I think I've seen enough of you pressed up against a wall for one night." Iruka slipped the jab in playfully, smiling that strange smile of his into his cup before slinking out the sliding glass door and joining the throng of people clustered together on the porch outside. 

 Kakashi could only stare after him, red liquid trembling against the filmy sides of his paper cup. His uncovered eye blinked dumbly after the chunin. 

He tugged at the nose of his mask and tossed back the entirety of his drink with a singular, loud gulp.

 

...

"Shoot the boot! Shoot the boot!" a jumping horde of teenagers hooted raucously, bumping into Kakashi's shoulder as they passed.

He spun out a little, his sense of balance strangely off-kilter, but Iruka's warm hand on his waist caught him. Instantaneously, what felt like a gushing spout of butterflies erupted somewhere within the inner workings of his chest at the glancing touch. The Copy-Ninja ducked his head, sure his blush was rising over the edge of his mask.

"Woah haha, easy." Iruka was laughing at him again, but Kakashi didn't have the urge to stop it, "Feelin' that last shot?"

"Uh." Kakashi said a little uneasily, "Maybe-What exactly is going on over there? That kid looks like he's frenching a shoe." He wasn't sure how Iruka would react to him telling him that he'd never actually tasted any alcohol before tonight. Or actually ever had an opportunity to use ' _frenching_ ' in conversation before now.

It'd been happening a lot more as the night went on. Him wanting to tell Iruka things... It wasn't like his usual aloof, disconnected self.

Somehow it felt like a concession of weakness. 

Or, more accurately: lameness. Kakashi bit his tongue.

"Huh?" And then Iruka was following his vaguely disturbed glance, twisting in his seat to see the chanting group, and the moment had passed, "Oh, that?"

Several loose strands of dark-mahogany brown hair slipped loose from the chunin's pony-tail, distracting Kakashi so he didn't hear the next words Iruka said.

"What?"

Iruka nodded over his shoulder.

"That kid." he repeated himself, "He's shooting the boot."

Kakashi frowned a little thickly in lieu of a reply. Iruka grinned and then looked a little embarrassed.

"It's when you shotgun a beer from the inside of a... boot."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a slight pause as Kakashi attempted to digest this. He traced the embroidery of a cushion propped beside him against the arm of the couch they were sitting on. 

"Okay..." He said with a bewildered little sigh and a drag of his half-gloved fingers through his silvery locks, "So, he's getting drunk by frenching a shoe then."

Iruka snorted. Laughed a delightfully harmonic laugh that made the tiny hairs along the backs of Kakashi's forearms want to curl.

"I guess he is, ha."

Feeling emboldened by the bright fondness shining in the other boy's brown eyes, by the way they seemed to pry into the hidden nooks and crannies of his being and fill him with a warmth that he was altogether unaccustomed to-Kakashi opened his mouth to tell another joke.

 "Hey, Iruka!" 

 A dusty-haired boy with a wide, jeering smirk of a smile and a green, seamless cap pulled low over his brows poked his head around the corner of the lounge.

"We require your expertise!" the boy called with an obvious wink, "There's business to be planned-Kitchen! Now! Genma-you get your ass in here too!"

The chunin smiled a little apologetically at Kakashi. 

"Sorry." he said, "I guess they need my help with something. I'll be right back, though." And then, thrown haphazardly back over his shoulder as the smirking boy tugged him away, "Don't agree to any card games!"

Kakashi watched him go, and tried not to look too lonely and awkward. He lifted his paper cup up to his masked lips and tipped it back, only to rediscover that he'd already drunk the contents. Looking around in what he hoped appeared to be a unaffectedly casual manner, he scanned the room for a trash can.

In the corner of the room was a poor-looking beige waste-bin with a dent in it's side, overflowing with a deluge of wet and crinkled paper cups. Kakashi skirted around it and a giggling couple weaving drunkenly together in the hallway, and ducked into the living room.

"Oh. Sorry." he grunted as he backed into someone in an attempt to dodge a beach ball someone had lobbed across the room. 

"Watch it."

A wide-shouldered teenager who looked to be a handful of years older than himself turned to glare at him contemptuously from beneath a low-set knitted cap. Kakashi raised a silver brow in exaggerated concern.

"Oh." he chirped, adopting a wide-eyed innocent expression behind his mask, "Yes. Why, of course..."

He reached a flippant hand up to the edge of his hitae-ate and pried it up with a flourish and a little mock-bow. The hellish, pinning stare of the Sharingan in all it's tomoe-spinning glory winked at the heavyset youth menacingly.

" _Allow me to keep an eye out_."

Kakashi's low-timbered voice husked chillingly into the pocket of air between them. The older boy's beady eyes widened and the paper cup he'd been holding crumpled in his hand with an eruptive splash of frothing alcohol all down his front.

 The off duty ANBU slid smoothly away, dissolving in the crowd with a soft, bemused chuckle and a careless shake of his silvery locks before the stunned teenager could say anything.

 Maybe parties weren't so bad, after all.

Kakashi was not a little surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. He wandered over to a small minibar, where a rosy-cheeked girl handed him another sloshing cup with a intoxicated smile. After wandering around the room a little bit, allowing the driving beat of the music and the sweeping glimmer of the bobbing electric lights to buzz pleasantly in his bones, he went back for another. And another.

Finally, when it seemed his plan of drinking until Iruka made his much-anticipated return - not that he would ever dare admit such a thing - wasn't going to go as planned, Kakashi allowed himself to sink lazily into the cool, leather cushions of a sofa. It was one of three set up in a motley horseshoe ring of seating around a low, off-balance coffee table. Around him, all pressed up against each other in chatting, laughing throngs, Konoha's nightlife pulsed and hummed like a hive of brightly colored insects.

The Copy-Ninja rubbed his fingertips in a half-conscious swirl against the budding throb of a headache that was forming in one temple. How much had he drank again? And, where was Iruka?

Kakashi wondered suddenly, with a swooping feeling much like having the contents of one's stomach go crashing into a puddle amongst one's feet, if the brown-haired boy might have forgotten him. It didn't seem like the sort of thing Iruka would do, but Kakashi didn't really see himself as the sort of person who really captured and held anyone's notice.

He was as plain and unspectacular as the grey of his wayward locks. Quick to fade into the background, to recede into the dim murkiness of forgotten memory as soon as he was noticed. His own dad - Kakashi shook his head and crumpled the empty cup in his fist. Not tonight.

He wouldn't ruin it with dark thoughts. Not when there was a gentle boy with warm, brown eyes waiting to come back to him from the kitchen who made him feel taller than he was; who knew as little about him as any of the laughing strangers at this party - but somehow, seemed to know just what to say to bring what was most assuredly a stupid looking smile to Kakashi's masked lips.

It was along this very string of thoughts he had been plodding, when a loud hooting cheer burst open quite suddenly around him. Several heavy claps of congratulation rained down heavily on the introverted hunch of his shoulders and back. Kakashi looked up and glanced about him in awkward confusion.

"Uh..."

Directly across from him, smiling with a coy twist of her ruby-red lips and a raven flutter of her thickly-mascaraed eyes, a girl who looked to be about his age grinned hungrily. The narrow neck of an empty wine bottle lay blatantly between the two of them on the graffitied surface of the coffee table, pointing directly between Kakashi's legs. The Copy-Ninja blinked. Why was everyone staring at him?

"Oh, you lucky dog." The boy stuffed onto the couch beside him was elbowing Kakashi in the ribs companionably.

"What..."

 But his confused half-question was roughly overpowered by the chanting of the crowd lounging in the loose circle of couches around him.

 "Rule of three! It spun 160! Rule of three! Rule of three!"

"Spin it!" a short-haired girl with training gloves pumped her fist into the air beside him with a jubilant cheer, "Spin, spin, spin, spin, spiiiin!"

She promptly did an enthusiastic twirl which ended with her collapsing into a giggling heap onto the person standing just behind her.

"Uh-huh..." Kakashi frowned a little, uncovered eye flitting around darkly as he slowly started to realize that all of the cheering was directed at him, "Is-Is she okay?"

No one seemed to hear him.

"Rule of three! Rule of three!"

"Spin it! Spin it you damned lucky bastard!"

Feeling completely at a lost and more than a little unsure, Kakashi reached tentatively for the bottle.

"Whooo! Haha," the voices trebled and rolled around him in a chaotic tilt, and he had only a moment to question if the decision he was making was maybe really not such a good one after all - Before the half-gloved fingers of his hand touched down on the cool, bare glass of the wine bottle and he spun it.

It revolved slowly, ominously slowly on the once-polished surface of the coffee table before him. And finally slid to a stop with the empty neck of the bottle pointing squarely at the smug-looking grin of a tall, impressively muscled young man half-hidden in shadow in the corner of the clustered ring of partygoers. 

 The young man stepped forward to stand directly between the girl with the vibrantly red lips and Kakashi with a rakish smirk. The man had dark eyes and close-cropped black hair. The girl's heavily made-up eyes sparkled, they danced a bouyant zig-zag between the muscular youth's looming frame and Kakashi's lean reclining body.

"Ready for your seven minutes in heaven?" 

The young man's voice rumbled into the air between them at the same moment a heavy hand fell on the slope of his shoulder. It rung familiarly in the Copy-Ninja's ears, which suddenly flooded with the rushing heat of a mortified blush.

He knew that voice...

Kakashi staggered a little under the rising swell of hands that began to push the three of them towards a half-open closet on the other side of the room. He gasped as he was pushed in and collided nose-first into the young man's broad chest. The girl with the ruby-red lips slid in smoothly behind him, and Kakashi heard the snick of the closet door locking closed behind them at the same moment her hands wrapped in a loose fold about his hips.

He looked up slowly to face that unnervingly familiar dark gaze; one he'd never seen without the icy barrier of a painted mask, with a solitary wide, grey eye. Kakashi swallowed and breathed in shakily as the girl pressed herself flush against the tense curve of his spine. Her painted lips closed over the tender skin of his ear lobe at the same moment the dark eyed boy dipped the tips of his fingers down the front of Kakashi's pants.

"Bear..."

The older boy's laugh rumbled against Kakashi's chin when he took a dominating step closer. It was replaced with a bruising grip of the other ANBU's fingers. The girls lips pulled free of Kakashi's ear with a wet, ticklish pop. The Copy-Ninjas lips parted in a caught-sounding gasp behind his mask.

There was a faint clink as the odd change in his pockets touched the floor with the rest of his trousers.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

"Mm-Ah. Wait." Kakashi gasped for air as he shook his head free from the cradle of Bear's large hands, "Wait."

He tried to take a step backwards, only to succeed in pressing himself closer to the sinuous length of the girl smirking directly behind him. Bear's lips followed him, plundering into his own with bruising forcefulness. Kakashi shivered as the girl ran the flat of her tongue over the small, hairless patch of skin just behind his ear. The drag of her long, richly colored fingernails raked invisible, electric eddies over his skin as she wrapped her arms around him and curled her hands around the dark blue hem of his shirt low over his belly.

"What," he tried to speak but a sharp yank to his hair had him wincing as his neck was craned back roughly. Kakashi swallowed loudly, watching nervously through one wide, grey eye as the fascinated gleam in both their eyes traced the minuscule movement of his adam's apple.

"Um..."

The rest of what he'd been about to say dissolved on his tongue as the top of his undies and the bottom of his t-shirt began to slide apart from each other at the same time. 

"Nngh-" he whined, and twisted reflexively, " Hey! What're you-"

The silver-haired teenager's lithe body started to fold forwards as his lanky arms shot down to his hips to catch his rapidly falling underwear. The girl squeezed tight up against him and let out a hot little puff of air against the nape of his neck. She gave his half-covered rump a hearty pinch that quickly devolved into a blatant, self-indulgent fondling.

"What's wrong, Kakashi?"

Bear's gruff voice dripped with mockery over him. The older boy lazily balled the front of the Copy-Ninja's shirt up under his chin in a tight, menacing wad in his fist. Kakashi's lips slipped open breathlessly as the tangle of his shirt, and the sharp angle it was being yanked at started to cut off his air supply. The slender boy, caught squirming and shivering between the two older adolescents, began to feel a little ill.

"I-"

 The air inside the cramped, dark closet they'd found themselves in was cold, icy against the bare skin of his heaving belly and chest. His hands flew up to clutch at Bear's blunt fists where they were crumpling the fabric of his shirt in a claustrophobic knot around his neck.

Immediately he felt a powerful volt of keen embarrassment and bizarrely terrified arousal at the same moment a rush of that cool, ticklish air blustered over his body, hips, and legs. Kakashi gasped audibly around the choking tug of his shirt, and his entire body jolted. Nerves humming with stinging disbelief and a burning sort of shame, the silver-haired boy looked down out of the corner of his uncovered eye.

The soft, comforting warmth of his grey boxer-briefs flashed palely up at him from amongst the collapsed pile of his navy blue pants. Puddled around the narrow length of his skinny, bandage-wrapped ankles. And, Kakashi's breath shook in his chest, as his vision jerked a nervous skate up the completely bare length of his body, taking in his ravaged appearance.

"Oh. My God..." The girl's voice nasaled darkly against the exposed dip of his spine, as she stepped back from him. Confusion and a horrified sort of alarm began to ring through Kakashi when he realized, with a stiff sort of understanding, that she was trying to get a better view. His bare hips twisted without him meaning them too, his body instinctively craving her departing warmth as his mind staggered to come to terms with the fact that he was practically, for all intents and purposes the only one naked in this tiny closet.

"Is that the son of the White Fang? Holy shit, that's so hot..."

Kakashi's eyes widened and a feeling like fizzing ice dropped heavily over his uncovered skin. The gasp he let out was almost half a whimper, he was so stunned. What was going on? How was this a game?

Bear pinched the tight, uncovered flesh of one of the Copy-Ninja' buttocks. Rubbed a devastatingly slow half-circle over the silky skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in it's wake. Flicked the defined curve of the teenager's rump once with a stinging snap of his pointer-finger and thumb. Kakashi recoiled, and the jerk of his hips had him profoundly aware of the all too visible wobble of every part of him that wasn't taut, lean muscle or hard, jutting bone. The feeling was simultaneously degrading and elating.

Kakashi whimpered. 

Bear was giving the girl a show. Never relinquishing his crushing hold on the tangle of Kakashi's shirt over the jumping pulse of his neck, Bear began to brush and dip his fingers along the intimate contours of the younger ANBU's helplessly exposed, finely tuned body. Making him twist and squirm, dangling before her like some sort of pathetic, wanton creature. Trapped for her amusement.

The humiliation and unexpectedness of it all had his ears burning so hotly it hurt.

The air began to race in Kakashi's chest. His hands shook where they scrabbled over Bear's clenched fist, and his body responded to every minuscule brush of his pale, hyper-sensitive skin. Somehow, it all began to feel so very far out of his control. Sure, he was a deadly assassin trained since birth on the numerous ways to incapacitate and kill a man... But right now he felt more helpless than he'd ever felt.

"Get him naked." The girl murmured a step behind him, her breath ghosting over the wispy hairs along the back of his neck, "All the way."

Bear grinned, his dark eyes searching Kakashi's gasping, uncovered face. Waiting till he saw the comprehension blooming in his solitary grey eye.

"Wait-Bear-" Kakashi made a sound that was half grunt, half whine and there was a terrible moment where his hands skated frantically over his own body as he tried to brush Bear's searching hand away from the softest parts of him whilst simultaneously keeping a cautionary grip on the hand that was choking him. 

"Do it." The girl husked, and her lips dragged in a smear over the jumping, bare skin of his shoulder, "I want him naked as the day he was born."

'No.' he wanted to say, 'Please'. But the words were lost in the sudden, dismantling sensation of his last truly protective article of clothing being shook from him, ripped from his neck and shoulders in a rough tug over his head that had the blood rushing in his ears and his stomach flipping in his belly. Kakashi cried out, and started to try and step away from Bear's towering figure, but his feet were caught in his discarded clothes. He tripped and spun away from the older boy, a harsh dry sob tumbling out of his tight chest, every inch of his skin singing where it connected with the icy, thin air.

"God, it's fucking sexy how bad he wants it." The girl was rifling through her purse. Looking for something.

He would have fallen if, at the very next moment, Bear's thick palm hadn't wrapped it's way back around Kakashi's slender neck from behind him. Bear jerked him roughly, cutting off the younger boy's air supply again with a cruel snap of his wrist. Kakashi's bare knees knocked together, and he flinched bodily when a wicked slap was whipped across the smooth, firm flesh of his bottom from behind him.

Kakashi blinked hard, horrified at the moisture beading along the tightly closed seam of Obito's Sharingan, hidden behind the slant of his hitae-ate.

His skin turned to ice at Bear's next words.

"You hear that, Kakashi?" and the older boy's voice was like acid, corroding his insides in an icy hot plume of sickening mortification and shame, "Even she can tell how much of a little slut you are."

There was nowhere to hide. No cool, unaffected attitude he could slip into, no mask to cover the tiny little variances of his facial expressions that he feared were too revealing. Their eyes crawled over his skin in a sort of lustful appraisal that burned with a sadistic gleam that had his skin dampening with fear-sweat, his entire body shaking. He felt sick. He wanted to go home.

He didn't want to be here. Naked and trapped, toyed with for two strangers amusement. Kakashi bit down another sob, before it broke free. Bear's hands were more forceful now, dragging the helpless reactions from his exposed body with a rushed sort of hunger that made Kakashi feel like he wasn't even in control of his own body anymore. 

When... When had he become this? This wasn't him, it-

"Remember the other week?" Bear's breath was so hot it burned ticklishly against his ear, "When we ran into each other in the jounin lounge?"

Kakashi tried to shake his head, but the boy pressed up against his spine caught his chin with one meaty grip of his hand, thick fingers digging into the babysoft skin of his face. Kakashi's breath hitched.

The girl had pulled out a slim, metallic object from her purse. She was holding it in front of her now, leveling it with Kakashi's uncovered grey eye as a red light in the corner blipped on. The Copy-ninja's eyes widened and his entire body jolted as the horror of what was happening fully hit him.

A camera. 

"No..." he moaned, and tried to turn away, and then a blind sort of panic took him over, "No! D-Don't."

"Ohh yes." Bear laughed in a gruff exhale behind him hat had the longer hair's hanging over the back of Kakashi's neck slipping over his shoulder as the younger boy began to thrash.

"Ah-Huh-" The smallest of sounds broke apart somewhere deep in his chest, but still managed to spill out. The ferocity of his thrashing escalated as each of his frantic bids for freedom were caught, handled, and mocked by Bear's dominating hands. Kakashi's cheeks were cold with the wet of his tears, his stomach hot and twisting wildly inside him.

"There were people standing talking, right outside the door." Bear's voice was relentless, bruising, "And even that wasn't enough to stop him from getting naked for me."

Kakashi froze in Bear's grip as the words pierced his heart. He grew still, his entire body shaking, and let his heavy eyelids close. He breathed raggedly. Trapped.

No matter how hard he struggled he couldn't escape. The very knowledge that there was nothing he could do, no way to remove himself from the degradation- it crippled him.

A choked sob burst it's way through his quivering lips. Bear's hand swiped a hot, searing line down the unprotected skin of his belly and joslted his penis. Kakashi flinched, and three tears slipped down his soft cheek from beneath his hitae-ate. But he refused to open his eyes.

It was too much. If he could just close his eyes, he could almost pretend that it was just him and Bear. That every single tortured reaction that was being dragged from his weak and undeniably powerless body wasn't being videotaped.

"He likes it when you're rough with him." 

Bear's hand returned to that secret place between his hips. This time it closed over him with bruising roughness, rubbing Kakashi's skin raw and making it hum with hurt. 

"Such a hungry little whore." 

"Hungry little whore."

The girl's voice was parroting Bear's dark growl.

"He'd take it from anyone."

"Take it from anyone."

 _N_ o...

 _"_ "As long," and a loud, stinging smack to his backside punctuated the words, "as they tell him he's been a good boy." _smack_ , "That he's been such a perfect," _smack_ , "little," _smack_ , "plaything..."

Kakashi started to cry softly, both eyes shut tight. He started to crumple forwards, his knees folding under him, but Bear caught him again around the neck and jerked him back to a stand.

_No, no, no..._

"He'll let anybody fuck him."

"Anybody." The girl hummed wickedly, the grin evident in her voice.

"Anywhere."

"Anywhere."

Kakashi was starting to drift outside of his body. He was dizzy with the brunt of emotion and sensation that was rocking him to and fro like the waves of a storm that was far out at sea. He felt lost. Disconnected. Unreal.

 The slow, dominating slide of one of Bear's jean-clad thighs pushed it's way roughly between his thighs from behind; prying his legs open wide and rubbing against the tender, overly-sensitive skin of him.

The shame of it all, the rapidity of it; the intrusive disregard for anything he was quite so obviously feeling - Uncertainty, unbridled fear, and a half-acknowledged understanding that somehow he was being punished; and that he deserved it - That this was as close to feeling loved as he was probably ever going to get - It struck him deeply.

 His chest seemed to be caught, snagged on something terrible and thorny that was buried deep inside of him that made it so he couldn't really breathe. The sound of someone hyperventilating fogged wetly against his ears, and, with a hushed cry, Kakashi was forcefully brought to the mortified realization that it was him.

How had everything happened so fast?

Bear moved his leg against him, and Kakashi's entire body jerked as the grainy roughness of the other boy's pants dragged against the most intimate, sensitive part of him. He cried out sharply, brow dipping helplessly, and bit his lip to keep it from wobbling. She was still recording everything.

He... He-

_"Why do I gotta wear a mask, Tou-san?"_

Memory resurfaced like a blow to the back of his skull, ringing.

...

 

 

 

 


End file.
